


Correctional

by Jayne L (JayneL)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brainwashing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 18:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayneL/pseuds/Jayne%20L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're not here for punishment, Castiel. You're here for correction."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Correctional

**Author's Note:**

> A while ago, drivingsideways33 asked for more Naomi and Cas. Somewhat more recently, cosmictuesdays gave me something to hang my nebulous Naomi-and-Cas thoughts on by prompting: "Castiel, relinquish." Now, there is something approximating fic.

In the early days of his treatment, Castiel arrives in Naomi's office with a quiet air of resignation.

At first, his willing submission pleases her; she interprets it as a sign that, despite his general antipathy, part of him truly does recognise her as a source of help. Then, sifting deeper into his mind, she uncovers the truth: deprived of the miseries of Purgatory, he views her--and her subtle words, and her shining tools--as his best available alternative.

It's a gross misunderstanding of her intentions. Naomi cannot allow it to continue.

"You're not here for punishment, Castiel," she tells him, and offers a merciful smile. "You're here for correction."

Frustratingly, her clarification only makes him less compliant.

* * *

"How many?" Castiel demands. "How many of my brothers and sisters felt as I did? How many did I _kill_ who agreed with me? Who would have joined me, if not for you?"

"Some." Naomi can acknowledge that much. The apocalypse had kept her busy, busier than anyone had expected. The civil war had overtaxed her office to near-uselessness. "But it's precisely because they would have joined you that they needed me." She watches him shake his head, his eyes widening and losing focus, his face slackening with devastation. "You feel their loss keenly now, don't you, Castiel?"

His answer is heavy with old grief. "I always did."

"That's precisely why _you_ need me."

He shakes his head no, no, no.

* * *

Castiel's air of resignation has returned.

But he carries Samandriel's lifeless vessel in his arms, and the fatal wound to the extinguished waveform within was struck by Castiel's sword.

Naomi is satisfied.

* * *

Each time they begin this exercise, she asks the same question.

"What is obedience, Castiel?"

He answers as he was taught; as all angels were taught. As all angels must believe to know themselves angels. "Obedience is proof that we deserve our Father's love."

"Do you deserve our Father's love, Castiel?"

"No," he answers readily. Naomi is cautiously encouraged. He answered yes last time, and went on to fail the exercise spectacularly. "But I want to."

"Then kill him," she orders, and steps back to reveal another Dean Winchester.

* * *

Castiel breaks one of his restraints, flails out and catches her wrist in a grip that grinds her vessel's bones together. Naomi expects him to try to push her away, or take control of the implement, long and thin and precise, that she holds in place where it protrudes from his temple. She startles when he pulls her closer instead, when he shifts his grip and increases the pressure on the instrument, tries to push it in deeper.

"Take them," he begs. His eyes are closed. Blood slides down his face, cutting a thin red line through tears and sweat. "Take them from me, take them all, please, take them, take them--"

"That's not what we're doing here, Castiel," she reprimands, gentle but firm. His desperate chanting chokes off on a sob. "You know that. Forgetting your sins won't cleanse them from you. Even if it could, that's not my purpose."

He clutches her wrist painfully a few seconds longer; then, slowly, lets her go and returns his shaking hand to its place on the chair.

When she adjusts the angle of her instrument, he tilts his head to accommodate.


End file.
